


A Cold Wind's Whispering Secrets In Your Ear (So Low Only You Can Hear)

by smokeandjollyranchers



Series: Kingdom Come [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: AU, Assembly Mage!Bren, Cult Leader!Jester, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, There's more blood in this one, and more sorrow but we account for that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 17:13:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18664792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokeandjollyranchers/pseuds/smokeandjollyranchers
Summary: “You also reek of Empire, boy, understandable why you’re afraid to speak a prayer out against something that isn’t approved, right? Gives you a little chill?”“Something like that.”“Brave of you to run then, eh? I hear they’ll kill you in the Empire, if you worship someone they ain’t approve. You could go to bed one night, and before morning, they’ve tortured and killed you. How scary would that be?”





	A Cold Wind's Whispering Secrets In Your Ear (So Low Only You Can Hear)

Bren passes the days working. 

Some days, working means pouring over scrolls and sigils, memorizing gestures and components and seals, components and words. Some days the only thing staining burnt fingers is ink. 

Bren passes the days working. 

Some days, working means  _ twisting _ . It means twisting and pain, it means reaching his hands into someone’s ribs and caressing their still beating heart. Some days the only thing dripping from his fingers is blood. 

Bren passes the days working. 

Some days, he hears her voice. Usually, it’s in the middle of the night, when she’s alone, when she has time. Some days, she giggles, like she’s sneaking a secret, or whispering over his shoulder. Some days he can hear the tears in her voice, like they’ll fall from her face and land on his hands. 

_ Come see me _ Jester whispers to him.  _ Please _

* * *

Jester stands in her Temple. 

_ Her Temple _ . The words send a chill down her spine as she thinks them, a smile breaking across her face. The Traveler finally has a Temple! He helped  _ her _ find it. It’s not very big, but it’s  _ beautiful _ , white granite with lines of emerald through it. It sits on an alcove, over the ocean, and when the wind hits just right, she can feel the mist through her window. 

It’s funny, when she was younger, she has a similar view out her window that felt more like a prison, but now the vast view of the sea feels  _ eternal _ , expansive and ever reaching. It feels like she touches the entire world. The night sky paints spattering of stars above her, and she sighs, resting her head in her hands. 

_ It’s beautiful, my dear.  _ The Traveler hums behind her.  _ I couldn’t have done better myself _ . 

His praise rests over her warmly, and she places her hand over her heart.  _ Thank you _ . 

_ Consecrate it well _ . The Traveler chuckles, and Jester narrows her eyes, refusing to look at him. 

_ Don’t make fun of me _ . 

_ I can’t. As long as it’s balanced.  _

Jester doesn’t answer him, she just swings her legs out her window, eyes closed as she listens to the waves crash against the the cliffs. It’s ten minutes, it’s thirty minutes before she feels a hand on her shoulders, trailing up her neck, and grabbing a fistful of her hair. There’s the gentlest tug and she leans her head back, soft smile on her face. “ _ Hiiiiiiiiii Bren _ .” 

“‘Llo.” Bren murmurs, pressing his lips against hers. “Place looks amazing, by the way.” 

“Thanks! We worked really hard on it.” 

“I like your view.” He comes to sit next to her, looking out to the ocean, the two moons bright in the sky. “It’s…”

“Never ending?” 

“Exactly that.” He nods. Jester leans into his side, and he wraps an arm around her, wincing as he does. She sighs, pressing her lips against his neck. 

“You hurt again?”

“Nah, I’m fine.” He kisses her, again, and again, until she finds them tripping across her floor, falling into her bed. Bren brings her heat, he brings her reprieve, something that she leans on, something she can reach for in the middle of the night, something she is never denied. Bren brings her everything he is, and Jester opens herself to him, allowing him to care for her. 

His tongue runs up her neck, and Jester moans his name. 

The consecration lasts through the night, and it feels  _ holy _ .

* * *

Bren is starting to learn their names. 

It’s to be expected, he supposes, watching Jester sit with her followers. She gestures wildly as she explains her plans about the mural, all the little details she wants, everything they’ve seen and survived. Her plan is  _ extensive _ , and time consuming, and he thinks it’ll be the longest Jester has ever stayed somewhere, at least, since he’s known her. One of her oldest followers, Samson (from Alfield, she met them when she first started her pilgrimage, they’ve followed her since the beginning. They’d been taking care of their parents, until the couple had passed, and left them alone. The Traveler came soon after.) tries to take diligent notes, but Jester is talking so fast, it’s hards to keep up with. 

There’s an  _ old _ gnoll that sits down next to him, exhaling as he does. He’s one of Jester’s newest friends, Kovak, from Xhorhas. It takes everything Bren has not to press him, but Jester and him have an agreement, they don't bring work to bed. It’s the only way they can stay...good...to each other. Kovak looks him over, one eye blank and the other milky. “I notice you never join the prayers.”

“I’m not much for prayer.”

“You also reek of Empire, boy, understandable why you’re afraid to speak a prayer out against something that isn’t approved, right? Gives you a little chill?”

“Something like that.”

“Brave of you to run then, eh? I hear they’ll kill you in the Empire, if you worship someone they ain’t approve. You could go to bed one night, and before morning, they’ve tortured and killed you. How scary would that be?”

_ Terrifying, I suppose _ . Bren swallows, finding Jester again in the crowd. She knows. She knows what the Empire is capable of, she knows what they’ve done. She knows what  _ he’s  _ capable of, she knows...pieces...of what he’s done. Before this, before  _ her _ , he never felt  _ guilty _ about what he’s done, he never felt  _ bad _ , hearing about what the civilians think about the Empire. But now it’s jarring almost, to hear  _ him _ described like a ghost, like a story used to scare children. 

Jester laughs, he sees it in the curl of her lips, the true joy of this moment, being with her family, growing. 

_ This Temple shouldn’t exist, these people shouldn’t have found each other, they shouldn’t be gathering- _

He stops himself, popping his knuckles. He’s not  _ in _ the Empire, he’s not in his  _ jurisdiction _ , he’s not where he has to care. 

(He’d had to beg Jester not to pick a Temple in the Empire. She hadn’t talked to him for nearly six weeks after that. It had been  _ hell _ . Then finally, her voice came to him soon as the sun rose.  _ I found a place, in Nicodranas. Not because of you, because it’s mine. Come see me. _ )

Kovak slaps his shoulder, jostling him from his thoughts. “Didn’t mean to send you to the dark places my boy, but it’s alright. You’re in the light now.”

Bren smiles a little at that. “ _ Ja _ , guess I am.”

* * *

Jester lays sprawled out on her bed, watching him. 

Bren gets dressed slowly, like he’s sore, and it makes her smile a little to herself. He sits on the edge of her bed, lacing up boots, and Jester crawls over to where he is, fingers on his back. His breath hitches as she touches bare skin, and she traces scars, the new ones. “Someone didn’t heal you quick enough.” 

“Or I didn’t get to them quick enough.” 

“What? Why would your  _ healer _ make you come to them?” She asks, and it’s a genuine question, she isn’t trying to start a fight, she just wants to know. To soften the blow, she drapes herself over his shoulders, so she can plant a kiss on his cheek. He blushes a little, and Jester beams. “Hey can I ask you something?” 

“Probably.” 

“Do you…do you have people? Like friends? Comrades? Anything? Every time I talk to you, you’re alone.”

He scoffs, one of his hands coming to wrap around her wrist. “I’m sort of a one man team, Jester. It would be much harder to do my job with someone with me.” 

“But when you’re  _ not _ working, and  _ not _ with me, you have people, right?”

He’s quiet, thinking about what he  _ wants _ to tell her, versus what he  _ can _ tell her. Finally, he turns to look at her, small smile on his face. “ _ Ja _ , I have some friends. Not as many as you do, but I know some decent people.” 

“It’s not a  _ competition, _ Bren, and if it were I totally win, but I just wanted to make sure that when you’re gone, you aren’t  _ alone _ .” 

He looks at her, a little surprised, and she sees something in his eyes again, that spark, that humanity he tries so hard to bury. “.... _ Danke _ , Jester. That’s…”

“ _ Incredibly  _ sweet and endearing of me?” She offers, wiggling her eyebrows. He scoffs, pushing his forehead against hers. 

“Something like that.” 

* * *

He’s smiling too much. 

Bren sits pouring over books, trying to put the finishing touches on this next spell. He’s immersed in his work, he doesn’t hear the footsteps behind him, jumps when he feels a hand on his shoulder. Astrid’s loud laugh is obnoxious and unmistakable. She plops onto the chair next to him, resting her head on her fist. 

“Not like you, to be snuck up on.”

“Not like you to sneak up on me.” He counters, lifting an eyebrow. Astrid watches him, lazily, like he’s prey that’s been spotted and hasn’t realized it yet. He sits back in his chair, facing her. “What do you want, Astrid.”

“I’m not sure yet, depends on what you tell me. You’ve seemed very...light, lately. I’m curious why.”

“ _ You _ want to know?”

“There’s interested parties.” Her eyes never leave his. “But I’m happy to speak with you off record.”

“It’s preferred.” Bren pops his knuckles, watching her. Astrid traces her finger over a glyph on a piece of paper in front of her. “What do you want to know?”

“Have you got something on the side, somewhere to go at night?”

Blunt and brutal, as she always is. Bren sighs, trying to pop his knuckles again, but he gets nothing. “Astrid-”

“I’m not going to  _ condemn _ you, we’ve all done it. It gets lonely out there in the Empire, and it’s cold at night. I get it. But I shouldn’t  _ know that _ , you know what I mean?”

He does, he knows  _ exactly _ what she means, and she’s right. She always is. “Is it too late?”

“You’re smiling a lot. He thought that was strange. It’s not too late yet, but it’s not safe, not anymore. Just keep you ears open, be smart about it.”

Bren nods, fingers tapping against the table. Astrid watches him in silence for a few moments, and she leans forwards, voice barely a whisper. “You need to walk away. If he finds out, he’ll kill her, him, them,  _ whoever _ . He doesn’t like the competition, you know that.”

Bren narrows his eyes as she talks, trying to see if she’s lying to him, but she seems almost... _ sorry _ . Astrid puts her hand over his, a watery softness in her eyes. “I knew this girl, Bren. A couple years ago, and she was somewhere I could sleep. I  _ understand _ Bren, I do. It’s hard to sleep, but..” Her fingers wrap around his hand, and he feels the pressure in her grip. “He killed her Bren. Arrested her, had her tried, and she hung on the walls outside the Capital for  _ weeks _ .” 

For a moment, just for a moment, Astrid looks like she may shatter, he gets a glimpse of the shadows in her eyes, how heavy they are. Then she blinks, and Astrid is back, hewn from the gems embedded in her arms. “You have to say goodbye, or you’ll be forced to. Don’t let him take that from you.”

Bren nods, flipping his hand to hold hers. “Thank you, for the warning.”

“I can’t give you another one.” She whispers, getting to her feet and walking past him. She’s gone as quickly as she arrived, and he scrubs a hand across his face. 

All night, he dreams of Jester hanging on a wall. 

* * *

Jester starts the corner of her mural. 

She draws the view from her window, the smallest ocean she’s ever known, she draws the cherub faced child the Traveler first presented himself as, she traces her first attempt at his door. 

_ Beginnings _ , she thinks.  _ You never realize how important the beginning was.  _

* * *

Bren coughs, his blood splattering in the dust before him. 

It’s warm and it’s cold, the end, and just when he thinks the heat will burn him from the inside out, the ice takes its place. He shivers, using the last of his strength to wrap his arms around himself. His vision swims, and he covers the wound in his chest with his hand. Around him, he hears the barks and yips of the hounds,, snarling, drooling, teeth stained with his blood. 

His skin feels cold. Reminds him of Jester. 

_ Endings, _ He coughs.  _ You never realize when the ending starts.  _

* * *

Jester is working on her mural when he appears, without warning. 

She’s painting the fields of Alfield when she hears footsteps behind her, and she leaps to her feet. Bren appears, walking towards her. Immediately, she puts her hands on her hips, ripping into him.”You can’t just ignore me for like two weeks like that! I’m not a  _ thing _ that you interact with at your inconvenience, Bren I’m not-”

He reaches her, pulling her into his arms and burying his face in her neck. He’s  _ shaking _ , and her words die on her tongue. She runs her fingers down his back, confused and grateful. He clenches her against him. “ _ I’m sorry _ .” 

“...Are you okay?” She whispers, and he clings to her.

“I’m sorry.”

She leads him away, leads him with her. He’s never come to her like this, he’s never just  _ appeared _ before. He follows her silently, which is  _ weird _ . She leads him to her room, to her bed, and he moves slowly. Jester slows to meet him, confused and concerned, until she has the first few buttons of his shirt undone, and she sees the  _ scar _ . 

He goes to stop her, but Jester gets the rest of his shirt off, and she sees the  _ dozens _ of new scars, nearly bisecting his chest. She gasps, pushing him onto his back so she sits on top of him, tracing with her fingers. Bren looks like he might stop her, but instead his hands fall to his sides, and he watches her. Her eyes narrow, looking at him. “ _ What happened to you?! _ ”

“I got...I…” He sighs, throwing his arm over his eyes. He’s hiding from her, but she lets him, this time. “I got mauled. 

She places both her hands over the scars, eyebrows knitting. “By  _ what _ ?”

“Hounds.” He murmurs, a shiver wracking through his body as he says it. 

“Where would hounds even-?! The only people who use hounds-”

Is  _ him _ . Is  _ them _ . The Empire uses hounds. Jester’s shoulders slump, and she puts her hand on his arm. She can feel the  _ chill _ from the gems, warring with the heat from his skin. Carefully, she moves his hand from his eyes. She’s never seen Bren look so  _ broken _ , look so  _ human _ , look so  _ alone _ . She shakes her head, pushing his hair from his face. “Did  _ your _ people do this to you?”

“Not-”

“They did, didn't they?! Is this some kind of like, training?! Or punishment- You didn’t-  _ I didn’t hear from you for two weeks! _ I thought you might be dead! I kept having these  _ dreams _ that you were dead and alone somewhere, the Traveler couldn’t even find you and your  _ own _ people did this to you?!”

Bren blinks at her, and sits up quickly, sliding her into his lap. “You have the Traveler watch me?”

“What? No. He’s a  _ God _ , I don’t have  _ him _ do anything. Bren, listen to me. Please.” She pushes her forehead against him. “No, listen, please. Did  _ your _ people do this to you?”

“Don’t-”

“Why did it take you two weeks to get back to me?” She asks, and he narrows his eyes. 

“...I wasn’t conscious. They didn’t know if I was going to make it.”

“They didn’t  _ heal _ you?! They left it up to-”

“ _ Please stop _ .” He growls, head dropping to her shoulder. “Please, I didn’t come here to fight with you I just-- I’ve had a very long couple of weeks, and I wanted to apologize.”

“They would’ve let you die.”

“ _ You _ don’t know that.” He growls. “They’re  _ my _ people, Jester, they would never let me die.”

“ _ Your friends wouldn’t do this to you _ . How could someone who cares for you leave you like that?!”

“They wouldn’t let me die!”

“They would!  _ This! _ ” She places her hand against his chest, his wound. “This tells me exactly that!”

Bren groans, flopping back on her bed, his arm thrown over his eyes. “Jester-”

“They’re going to kill you, and I want you to leave them.”

He stares at her, his mouth dropping open. Jester recognizes instantly, that she’s crossed the one line he’s drawn her, and she did it almost  _ gleefully _ . She watches his eyes dart to her door, and she takes his chin in her hands. “No, don’t run. Please.”

“If you don’t wish to  _ see _ me wounded, I’ll grant your wish. You won’t see my blood again, but-“

“No, wait! No, that’s not-” Jester groans, rolling off of him so she can lay next to him. Her hand finds his, and she laced her fingers together. “That’s not what I meant, please,  _ please _ don’t hide from me. I...I didn’t mean for this to...I’m  _ worried _ about you, Bren.” 

“You don’t have to worry about me.” 

Jester frowns, staring at him. “Can you tell me more? Please? I just...what if something happens? And I just never see you again? Never hear from you again? Somewhere I can start to look-“

Bren sighs, rolling on his side so he can face her. “You know I can’t.”

“So I’ll just never know?”

“We have  _ rules _ , Jester.”

“I  _ hate _ rules, Bren.” 

He rolls on top of her, his hands on her face, and he  _ kisses _ her. It’s soft, and sorrowful, like he wants to apologize. “Please, not tonight. Just…”

Jester sighs, opening her arms and holding him against her. They fall back into her bed, and he hides in her chest, fingers digging into her hips. They lie quietly, Jester’s fingers in his hair as the time passes. He falls asleep there, in Jester’s arms, unaware of the  _ rage _ shining in Jester’s eyes. 

* * *

_ How could someone who cares for you leave you like that _ Jester spat at him.

She hadn’t _ been there, _ he thinks, when he had gone down. Jester means well, and she cares about him, it’s true. But she hadn’t been there. Jester didn’t see Astrid sit across him, tasked to heal him  _ without  _ magic. She works, she works and she works, tirelessly, for days, to keep him breathing. 

_ How could someone who cares for you leave you like that _

Wulf sits with him for countless hours after Astrid saves his life. He sits, making sure Bren’s breathing doesn’t stop as the night passes. He sits, using medicated water to make sure the infection stays away. Wulf sits and rests with a hand over Bren’s heart to make sure the beating doesn’t stop. 

Jester means well, but she doesn't know how he’s used to being loved. People who save him without being asked, despite his own failings. People who sit with him through the night to make sure he lives. There’s two people who care about him, and he  _ trusts _ them. 

He isn’t sure if he trusts Jester. 

* * *

He’s still there when she wakes up, and she’s kind of surprised. Bren keeps his eyes closed, his voice barely  carries over the roar of the ocean.  _ I have a familiar.  _

Jester’s eyes narrow, and she pokes his side. Bren cracks a smile, and snaps his fingers. A  _ large  _ orange cat appears, wiggling himself right between the two of them. Jester tries to keep a stern face but it’s hard with that  _ adorable  _ cat rubbing against her chin. 

_ His name is Frumpkin, and if anything happens to me, I’ll send him to you. So you’ll know. _

Jester’s heart swells, and she reaches for him, the cat snug between them. 

_ Thank you  _

* * *

Bren goes back to Rexxentrum.

Ikithon wants to see him, in the pits of the Academy. His palms sweat and he tries to calm his nerves. He can’t think of anything he’s done, which means there’s only one thing this can be about. This is going to be it, he thinks, this is going to be the end. 

He’s been too happy, Astrid warned him, and he thought he’d been better. But even as he thinks of her now, walking down the stone stairs to the basement, he feels himself fight a smile. Bren doesn’t know if he trusts Jester, but it’s getting harder and harder to think of a world without her. 

Ikithon waits, in his fine robes and patient smile. Calm, waiting, patient as he explains himself. “You see,” he tells Bren, tightening restraints. “I’m really just worried, you see. You kids are basically my own, I’ve watched you grow up, and I can’t help but notice how you’re  _ weaker _ lately. How you hesitate, how you struggle, how you choke to death on your own blood and  _ accept  _ it. No no, my boy, you won’t let me down. 

And Bren doesn’t. He breathes through the pain and tries not to think about the metallic taste on his tongue, and the way he feels the blood flow from his nose.  _ It hurts _ , but Ikithon is right. He’s pledged to the Empire, he would do  _ anything _ for the Empire, and a little more pain is nothing, to be able to do what he’s been trained to do. 

“Don’t worry, my boy. I’ll make sure you’re back to yourself in no time.”

Bren suppresses a cough, knowing if he makes a sound he’ll be denied healing afterwords. 

Jester’s voice echoes in his head, asking him what he would call this, why these people who say they care about him would  _ torture _ him like this-

He breathes through his nose, swallows his blood, and tries not to think about how he would explain to Jester that this isn’t  _ torture _ , this is loyalty. 

* * *

Jester’s fingers lace with his as she curls up against his back, her lips against his spine. Bren hums, squeezing her fingers while they settle. There’s a few beats of silence, before Bren speaks, voice sluggish. “My best friend, her name is Astrid.”

* * *

On his table, the heretic coughs. 

She’s Elven, and her eyes are cloudy as she searches for him in the dim room. Bren meets her gaze, waiting, patiently, for answers or for the end, whichever breaks in her first. She narrows her eyes, as though that will hide the tears, the fear. “What gives you the right?” 

“You bring false Gods to the Empire, it’s punishable by death.”

“This isn’t _ death _ , this is slaughter. This is without mercy..”

“Do you think this is a world where Mercy exists?” Bren asks her, genuinely curious. “If that’s the case, name your leader, and you can atone for your crimes  _ alive _ .” 

The woman sobs, tugging against restrains. “My crime is  _ worship _ .”

“Well you know what they say, the Gods love a martyr.” 

* * *

Jester works on her mural, sneaking glances at Bren. 

He sits with his back against the wall, where she hasn’t gotten to yet, and he tries to control his breathing. His shaking, it’s subtle but she can tell. She wants to push him, see if it’s something she can help him with, but he’s barely been able to look her in the eyes. 

It’s hard not to think about, but she tries to keep her mind clear, mixing paint with her thumb. She smears a black line across her painting of Oxten, marking her passing. Jester takes a breath, looking at Bren again. 

He’s looking at her this time, they’re hard, but they look like they might shatter if she even breathes wrong. “I never…I never apologized for that.” 

“...Don’t apologize if you don’t think what you did was wrong.” 

He looks back down at the floor, running a hand across his face. “It’s getting harder to tell, lately.”

* * *

Bren kisses her forehead, her nose, until sleepy violet eyes open, grumpy at being woken up. 

“I have to go, I didn’t want you to wake up alone.” 

“Be safe.” She yawns, running her thumb over his cheekbone. “Two weeks. My birthday.” 

“Two weeks.” He promises, kisses her soundly before he pushes himself off the bed. “You have the same birthday as my friend, Wulf.” 

He kisses her once more, and he’s gone.

* * *

Alannah sobs, and Jester holds her tighter. 

She’s the only other Tiefling in Jester’s following, and she’s always felt a kinship with the younger girl. Alannah is the palest shade of sea glass green, and the Traveler came to her when she was only 17, offering her freedom in the face of her parent’s intentions to sell her to a pleasure house. She’s been with Jester since they’d gotten back to Nicodranas. And now, the girl cries into her shoulder, heartbroken over her love leaving. 

Jester tries to soothe her, a reassuring hand on her back. “It’s a big deal to have the Traveler ask for a favor, and they’re usually  _ really fun _ , but don’t worry, Alice will be back soon enough, with  _ better _ stories. And she already has some pretty excellent stories.” 

“That’s true.” Alannah sighs miserably, wiping her tears away. “She’s so funny.” 

“You might even find more of yourself while she’s gone, actually! Maybe the Traveler has something for  _ you _ to do. You know? If nothing else a broken heart is good for some minor choas.” 

Her friend nods, rings on her horns clinking as she does. “Man, I wish He spoke to me like he does to you.” 

Jester smiles, wishing her well, trying to ignore the sour feeling in her stomach. Actually, it’s been a little…quiet on the Traveler’s end lately. She waits until she’s alone, and she gathers her supplies. Carefully, Jester draws the runes, lighting the insense in the circle. She sits in the center, praying in Infernal, and she sees the smoke turn green. 

She finishes her prayer, opening her eyes to the Traveler, sitting in her circle with her. “Jester, my dear, it’s been some time.” 

“I noticed that too,” she smiles at him, tails swishing excitedly. “Have I not been pleasing you?” 

“Oh you’re never a disappointment.” He smiles, his eyes flash under the hood, and she sighs, crossing her arms. 

“Why haven’t you been talking to me?” 

“I have many fingers in many pies my dear, and I’m less worried about you, each day that passes after your friend leaves.” 

“Bren?” 

“That’s the one!” He snaps his fingers at her, smile remaining on his face. “He makes me uneasy. Surprised he doesn’t make you feel the same way.” 

“Bren isn’t going to hurt anyone here.” 

“As long as you stay out of the Empire, right?” 

Jester crosses her arms, eyebrow lifting. “This seems kind of personal, yanno, for a  _ God  _ to care about.” 

“It is. My dear, I don’t want to watch you make yourself smaller for  _ anyone _ . Let alone for a pawn of the  _ mighty _ Assembly.”

She narrows her eyes, trying her best to read the line of his mouth. “We knew he was in the Assembly.” 

“He works for some terrible people, my dear.” 

“I  _ asked _ you not to spy on him.” 

“You asked me not to  _ tell you _ about what I’ve found. But if he’s going to spend  _ this _ much time in my temple, and my priestess, I have a vested interest. He’s  _ basically _ a follower.” 

“...I don’t want you to tell me.” She finally answers, and the Traveler shrugs, the smoke form the insense fading to white. Before he’s gone, she hears his voice in the silence, his smile in the smoke. 

_ Then you might want to find out from him exactly  _ who _ the Archmage is _ . 

**Author's Note:**

> I REALLY only intended for that first one shot, but I had a lot of interest in continuing it (widojest server lookin at you) so I set it up as a series, that way if you're NOT interested in the rest, you can leave when you're ready. As ALWAYS, thank you for reading!
> 
> Youcanreplytomyfirstseries!


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